She Says
by My Sharpie Is Green
Summary: Inspired by Howie Day song of same name, but not a songfic. Bill and Fleur. I said he was nothing, not that you were everything.


**Disclaimer:** Don't own HP. Inspired by the Howie Day song of the same name.

**.x. She Says .x.**

The candle flickered in front of the open window before being blown out by the wind. The room plunged into darkness, leaving him alone and cold. He could barely make out the shadow of her black dress, which lay crumpled on the floor. The covers on the bed were still a mess, but he wouldn't touch them… As he walked, he almost tripped on those strappy heels that had been discarded in a moment of passion…

_He entered the house in an elated state…he had been given a pay raise at work. They would be able to live the way they wanted to now. No, not they—she. It was she who was accustomed to the higher standard of living, but it was no matter. She would be happy, and nothing could be ill if she was satisfied. _

"_Darling, I'm home!" he called, but he received no answer. "Honey? Fleur?" _

_He opened the door to their bedroom, and there she was…but she was not alone. He stared, unable to tear his gaze away. The shards of his broken heart cut into him deeply. He could feel all of the pain in the world upon his shoulders…_

_They were there…_

_In his own bed, the one that he had worked so hard to be able to afford for her…._

_Under his sheets, the ones she had insisted he buy…_

_And there, on the plush carpet she had wanted, was the little black dress he had bought her for their anniversary dinner…._

"_Bill!"_

There were tears now; for the first time, he was crying. He was alone, and she was gone….

"_I can explain," she cried._

_He didn't care._

_She scrambled out of the bed and towards him. He found it funny how she tried to cover him up, as though he had never seen her before… _

"_Bill…."_

"_He will **never** understand you like I do. He will **never **love you like I do."_

"_Bill—"_

"_Just answer me one question…why?"_

He had meant nothing to her. Not him, not the man who had been between her thighs just moments before.

"_It meant nothing, Bill, I zwear it!"_

"_Then why were you willing to risk everything for nothing?"_

"_I zaid 'e waz nothing, not that you were everything."_

With those words, she killed him….

"_Daddy, why are you and Mommy….Mommy?" The oldest of their three children appeared in the doorway, looking from Bill to Fleur to the other man confused. "Daddy, what's going on?"_

"_Just go back to bed, Amy, Daddy'll explain everything later," he whispered._

"_Will Mommy come to?"_

"_No, honey, Mommy won't be there."_

_The little girl looked up at her mother with a wide-eyed gaze, one filled with fear and betrayal. She disappeared again. When he heard her door shut again, he rounded on his wife._

"_Out."_

"_Bill—"_

"_Get out."_

Bill picked up one of the stilettos from the ground and hurled it across the room. It hit a pane of glass in the window and it shattered. He cursed.

As he stared at the hole, his sorrows possessed him. He sank to the floor and shook uncontrollably. She was gone… She was gone, and she had never loved him….

"Daddy?"

He looked up. Amy was standing in the doorway again.

"Why are you crying, Daddy? Where'd Mommy go?"

"Mommy left, Sweetie," he said quietly, barely daring to raise his voice above a whisper.

"Is Mommy coming back?"

"No, Sweetie."

She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her close and looked at her. "She left me?"

"She left us, Sweetie, she left us…"

The little girl buried her face into his shoulder and cried then, and Bill tried to be strong for her. He tried not to sob with her.

"It's okay to cry, Daddy," she whispered in his ear, and Bill let himself go. His cheeks were damp; he could taste the saline on his tongue as the tears passed over his lips.

_And when she says she wants someone to love, I hope you know she doesn't mean you…._

_I hope you know…_

_I hope you know…_

_I hope you know that she doesn't mean you…_

_She doesn't mean you…_


End file.
